Sensory Details on the Climbing Wall

Up the Orange Route

1The climbing gym smelled of rubber mats and chalk dust. In front of me, a gray wall rose almost to the ceiling. It was covered with holds in orange, lime green and purple. Some holds were shaped like lemons, and others were as tiny as jelly beans. My cousin Tomás had been climbing here for a whole year, but this was my very first visit.

2A coach named Ms. Okafor helped me step into a harness. The straps pinched my legs as she pulled them tight. Next, she tied the rope to the front loop and tugged on the knot twice to check it. "Follow the orange holds," she said. "Only orange. If you slip, the rope will catch you."

3I dipped my hands into a chalk bag. The white powder felt as soft as flour and left my palms dry. I grabbed the first hold. It was rough and gritty, like the side of a nail file. I pressed the toes of my rubber shoes onto a tiny ledge and pushed myself up. Halfway up the wall, I made the mistake of looking down. The blue mats looked as small as a postage stamp. My knees began to shake, and my mouth felt as dry as the chalk.

4From below, Tomás shouted, "Reach for the big orange one on your right!" His voice bounced off the high metal ceiling. I took a slow, deep breath. Then I stretched my arm until my shoulder ached and wrapped my fingers around the hold. A small brass bell hung at the top of the route. I climbed three more holds, slapped the bell with my palm and heard it ring out with a loud clang.

5Ms. Okafor lowered me down slowly. The rope creaked as I drifted back toward the mats, and my shoes touched down with a soft thud. My arms felt like wet noodles, and my fingertips were pink and stinging. Tomás gave me a high five that left a white handprint on my sleeve. I grinned so wide that my cheeks hurt. "Can I go again?" I asked.